The Things I’ve Seen

Ah my friend the things I’ve seen
among the misty hills of green, 

far beyond the rocky gates
where city lies on windy straights, 

a place of magic music and lore
where giants stand off the rocky shore, 

beauty adorns the skyward walls
a landscape marked with glittering falls, 

bridges who’s arc seem to touch the sky
and shining waters that blind the eye. 

Tis a glorious place to see indeed
but alas it is a place in need, 

because the people lack “common thought”
behind the façade, the city does rot, 

while man of dreams cries “paint the sky!”
men of nothing wither and die. 

The tower lights turn sky aglow
while raving youth gather below, 

their raucous lasts till early morn
when musical mirth becomes blowing horn, 

tis then they return to life to find 
that a chance at living has left them behind. 

Was this the way it was meant to be
when follow the heart is the only decree? 

Is freedom of dreams to much to ask?
Is the building of Eden an impossible task? 

The answer to these I say is “No”
but the path to heaven was lost long ago, 

for they have forgotten the simplest of truth
in their dreaming rebellion raging and youth, 

that no matter how glorious the castle wall
the city on clouds is destine to fall. 

So alas I’ve returned the land of corn
to the home of the people from which I was born, 

the mystery and magic almost seem to be gone
but labor continues and people move on, 

the people here know that life is no breeze
that one must work hard for their someday of ease, 

for we too dream of that effortless climb
but our stairwell is built one brick at a time. 

So my friend these things I say to thee
ner stop your dreaming from beneath the tree, 

but never forget the lesson here learned
that freedom is the right that has to be earned, 

not by showing ones status or wealth
rather by guarding your home and your health, 

for when your heart cries out to thy needy brother
to act without these is to become yet another, 

and any dream dreamt is a dream worth to follow
but without truth and toil, all dreams are hollow. 

——Howard

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